To the world, Japan is that country in the Far East that has really done it all. It runs so effectively that you are left looking for words. It is not Europe.
The people here are humble, quiet, respectful, and overall, extremely helpful. No airs. No frowns. No scowl and no snark if you miss a station exit. They take you by the hand and guide you to your destination if you’re lost. And all of it, with a smile and a bow in tow.
I spent two weeks backpacking (with a suitcase, nevertheless) across the more touristy places in this slice of land in the Far East and saw my life change at every turn. But none of that made saying goodbye to this country as tough as saying it to the restrooms did.
Japan is the gold standard when it comes to a lot of things… but the restrooms?! Hold my sake — are pure poetry.
You enter any public restroom anywhere in the country, and a Toto WC will smile back at you; spotless; sitting pretty next to a panel from your wildest hygiene dreams.
There are switches to clean every bit of your body that you would use in that restroom; and at the risk of sounding scatological, is just what the cleanliness gods ordered.
So, you can imagine what two weeks of getting used to this care can do to you when you’re leaving Japan.
Anyway. Moving on to the slightly more pleasant stuff…
When I took off for Japan sometime at the fag end of March, I boarded the flight with almost an empty mind. Tabula rasa was necessary. I did not want anyone or anything to colour my perception of this country that I was travelling to; to see the cherry blossoms, to immerse myself in the sheer energy of its cities, and to fall in love with the meditative quietude that Japan has to offer; damn those Instagram Reels.
The archipelago of Japan rose out of the ocean in front of us as my plane hit the tarmac in Osaka. It was a sunny Saturday afternoon. Once immigration and customs were cleared, I headed out to the railway station at the airport for my first bite of the legendary trains of Japan.
The Nankai Limited Express, named Rapi:t, was my steed from the airport to Namba, the area I was staying in. As the beautiful electric-blue train rolled into the station, all cameras went clickety-click. It was quite a sight!
This round-paned train takes its windowspiration from an airplane and hits 120 kmph on that line, taking you from the Osaka Kansai airport to Namba in a mere 34 minutes.
Namba station is the gateway to Osaka’s most happening area: Dotonbori. Dotonbori is a blinding-bright neon dream that comes to life as the sun goes down. The lights come on. The activity kicks off. The aroma of food wafts across from the numerous street-food stalls that flank the alleys of Dotonbori and soon, you’re lost in this maze of what-to-do and how-much-to-eat.
It is in this district that I waited longer for half a dozen Takoyaki than I have for food at the finest of fine-dining restaurants in India.
Takoyaki, the famous Osakan wheat-batter balls with an octopus filling, is hands-down its most delicious too. But if you are in a hurry to devour it (like I was), be prepared to have your oesophagus scalded. Take your time to eat these. They are worth your patience.
Japan is a sea- (and general) food paradise. If you are a vegetarian though, may the force be with you. You might find an Indian or Nepalese restaurant jostling for space next to the endless rows of fried-roasted-steamed-raw-younameit seafood stalls; but don’t go foraging for the taste of home because you won’t get it. Fall back on your ready-to-eat MTRs and Haldiram’s. The food and snacks in Japan, otherwise, deserve a separate novel.
Tokyo is the home of Asia’s best restaurant, Sezanne, but turn a corner on any street and watch your tastebuds treated to the best of Japanese food, from unagi, or eel skewers to yakitori.
Such is the variety here that you could live here all your life without having the same dish twice… what could ten short days do! The Seven-Elevens, Family Marts and Lawsons are replete with snacks and meals cold and hot. At no point will Japan let you miss food – such is this country!
What Japan will let you miss, however, are dustbins. You will be at your wits’ end trying to find one on the streets. The dustbins here are all manned. The ones not manned are restricted to accommodating only bottles and disposables.
The trains are always on time. Delays, few and far between, are adequately apologised for, by the PA system announcers to the ticket checkers, who bow and tell you why the train on that particular day is a minute late.
Japan is well-connected by trains from the cities to the smaller towns. One of the smaller towns on this trip that had me enthralled is Takayama.